


I Carved Your Initials

by theinspiredginger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Brotp, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-11-29 01:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinspiredginger/pseuds/theinspiredginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destiel Fic in an Hunger Games!AU Sam and Dean prepare for the reaping of the annual Hunger Games. Dean prays that his brother won't be chosen, God isn't listening that day. However, a certain angel is. It's a story of family, and love, and the willingness to sacrifice everything to preserve those we care about most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Reaping

**Author's Note:**

> Oh goodness, this came out of nowhere and i don't even know what to say about it. It was only going to be a drabble but that drabble turned to a couple dozen pages that aren't even completed...
> 
> this is my second time writing Destiel, but first time posting it... tell me what you guys think! Thanks so much!
> 
> Big thanks to booksandbubbletea for reading it in the REALLY early stages! (aka scribbled on a receipt)
> 
> ~xoxoSasha

The wooden planks creaked as Dean stepped on the make-shift floor; his feet expertly avoided the weakest spots. He quickly threw his leather jacket on over his three other layers. It was colder this year than most winters. Dean walked over to the cupboards, the ones he had fixed himself, using his fist as a hammer and some crooked nails he found on the ground. He opened the cupboard out of habit; he knew there wasn’t any food in there. He turned around shocked to see his kid brother standing behind him. 

“Sam, I didn’t hear you come out.” Dean ran his hands through his hair. “What are you doing up anyway? Go back to bed, it’s a, well it’s a big day today.” Dean cursed himself for conforming, for making it seem that this reaping day was a celebration, not decimation.   
“I..uh…I couldn’t sleep. What if I get picked, Dean?” The thirteen-year-old Sam admitted as he tried to hide how upset he truly was. He was always trying to so hard to be the strong man his older brother was. 

“Hey, don’t you worry okay. Everything’s gonna be alright. You understand? There’s nothing to be worried about, you aren’t going to get picked. Your name is in the bowl ONCE. Your chances are like one in a hundred thousand! You know how many other people’s names are in there? And you know how many times one person normally puts their name in there?” Dean insisted as he smiled.   
“Like you?” Sam said shyly, looking back at the ground. Dean’s smile faltered as he thought about the close to fifty slips of paper that had his name and fate written on them.   
“Hey I’ve been putting my name in there extra times since I was your age! I haven’t gotten picked yet! Don’t worry okay? We’re gonna be okay. Okay?” Dean assured both to himself and his brother. Sam nodded in forced agreement and went to grab his coat that was on the hook. “Nuh-uh. Sammy, go back to bed. Just cuz you’re in your teens doesn’t mean you don’t have a bed time.”  
“Bedtimes are when you GO to sleep. I’m just waking up early.” Sam smiled.  
“Hey, I don’t want your sass, so get your ass back in bed.” Dean smiled at his slant rhyme and Sam shook his head annoyed but eventually acquiesced. Dean grabbed his knife from the pocket of his jacket and went out to fetch breakfast.

As Dean snuck through the hole in the “electric” fence, he couldn’t help but get angry. He shouldn’t have to be the father figure, he should get to be the older brother, should get to just pal-around with and teach him things. He ran his thumb over the edge of his knife as he thought about it. He couldn’t understand why his father just couldn’t pull it together. Why couldn’t John just suck it up and get on with his life? John Winchester after loosing his wife in an unexplained “accident” couldn’t stop his revenge from taking over his life. He hunted nonstop, constantly sneaking in and out of the fences doing God knows what. The next District was hundreds of miles away; Dean suspected his dad just roamed around hunting for anything he could lay his hands on. 

John used to bring Dean and Sam along for the ride. Once he was old enough, Dean got a job at the mines and worked twelve-hour shifts to get a scrap of bread on the table. Dean thought that once he started providing for them, John wouldn’t have to hunt anymore. He was wrong. If anything, john left more often, for longer periods of time. Neither Sam nor Dean had seen their father for months. 

Dean now officially had double-duty as parent and sibling. Dean hoped his dad just wouldn’t come back; it was fair to Sam to keep popping in and out of their lives. Dean had accepted that his father wasn’t coming back, and that it if he did he would hopefully leave shortly there after. Dean now worked eight-hour shifts at the mines and hunted illegally to get food on the table. Sammy went to school and some how always came home with a couple dollar bills. Dean was infuriated when it first started happening; he was convinced Sam was stealing them or doing something illegal to get them. He questioned Sam for days but Sam just kept telling him the story how everyday at school he would hang his coat up at the front door and at the end of the day a few spare coins or a crumpled bill would always be in his pocket. Sam promised he had no idea where they came from or who was giving them to him. Dean had no choice to believe him, and though he did find the whole situation a bit odd he couldn’t help but be thankful; those few extra dollars were the only thing keeping them both from starvation. 

Dean walked back into the house as dawn was breaking and he quickly cleaned, gutted, and cooked the rabbit he’d found. Sam awoke to the smell of the food and wandered in. Dean looked up at his brother who sat on an old rickety chair. Sam rubbed his eyes and stretched. Damn, he’s getting big. Dean thought to himself. Kid’s growing like a weed.

“Hey, after breakfast go put on your Sunday best.” He spat the words through gritted teeth, infuriated in the tradition. Dean ate the leg of the rabbit and gave the rest to Sam. Dean walked through the shack they called home and tore off his top three layers leaving only a ratty tank top. He went to the drawl and pulled out one of two button-down shirts. He slipped the dark blue one over his arms and buttoned it up. He grabbed an old white tie and tied it loosely around his neck, then slipped his worn leather jacket on. He grabbed the remaining white button-down shirt and black suit jacket and matching tie and slung them over his arm as he walked into the kitchen.

“Here you go Sammy.” Dean handed him the clothes and Sam changed silently. The silence continued as the walked to the reaping. Sam and Dean separated when they got to the gathering, each going to their selected areas. Dean pushed back on his heels as he anxiously counted the backs of people’s heads. He almost smiled when he saw her. Lilith, and all of her Capitol glam, walked across the stage with a white face and pink eye shadow. Her lips were drawn on as well as the rest of her features; Dean did smile when he looked at her, the whole package of a rhinestone gown-pantsuit. The pink rhinestones glittered from even the subdued winter sun. She smiled and waved and acted as if there was no place else she would rather be. The thought crossed Dean’s mind that there probably wasn’t. 

She drowned on and on about the beautiful history of the games and valiant victors and pointed out the one and only victor of District 12. He was the town drunk and was once great friends with Dean’s father. The victor was Bobby Singer. Bobby dropped by once in awhile to say hi but never stuck around. He was found of the Winchester boys but didn’t want to be a reminder of the father that had abandoned them. Bobby stood up on the platform now, swaying back and forth, obviously drunk off his ass. One of the guards brought him a chair that he nearly collapsed in. 

Dean waited as she continued to talk about the glorious prizes that awaited the victor and the terrible consequences if you didn’t. Dean shook his head in anger. Couldn’t she just get on with it? Dean waited on pins and needles through the rest of her spiel, it wasn’t until the glass bowls were brought out that Dean actually began to pay attention. The crowds while quiet before had a different kind of silence about them.   
Lilith’s hand whisked around the glass orb until her long fingernails pierced the tiny slip of someone’s fate. Her hand slowly extracted itself from the bowl; she seemed to be shaking with excitement, a detail that didn’t go unnoticed by Dean. 

Not Sam. Dear God, Not Sam. Not my Sammy. Not Sam. Please, Not Sam.   
Dean tasted blood in his mouth as he bit the inside of his cheek. Dean could hear the crisp creak of the paper as she unfolded it. His heart stopped, as everything seemed to go in slow motion. Lilith smiled as she looked at the tiny slip of paper. Her eyes flickered up to the crowd, held up the slip and shouted,   
“SAM WINCHESTER!”


	2. The Volunteer

There was a sudden intake of breath and Dean found that he was the only one exhaling.

_NOT SAM!_

A smile was on the verge of crossing his lips as the name finally registered. He stood motionless as people turned and stared. His eyes out of instinct looked for Sam.

This wasn’t happening.

Sam’s legs began to walk themselves out to the center of the aisle. He was slowly making his way through the crowd as people stared at him in horror. _Sam doesn’t know how to hunt. What’s going to happen to Sam? He can’t survive out there._

Dean’s thoughts raced as he made his way to the edge of the crowd, the words “I volunteer” caught in his throat.

The guards dressed in white gripped the sides of Sam’s arms and they began to walk down the aisle to the platform.

Dean hadn’t thought that he would be picked. The thought honestly hadn’t truly occurred to him as an actual possibility. He had worried about it, stressed about it but hadn’t accepted the worry as an actual outcome.

His feet and the rest of his body moved on their own accord; Dean was watching the events unfold but wasn’t actually apart of them. He opened his mouth to scream “I VOLUNTEER!” He couldn’t hear a sound. _Did I actually say anything?_ He wasn’t sure. He opened his mouth to scream again.

He saw Lilith’s mouth moving but no words were coming out. His brain was shouting too loud; he couldn’t tell if he couldn’t hear at all or if he was hearing everything. But he was watching, disconnected from reality and sound, but watching. He felt his heavy footsteps pound the earth as he approached the outer edge of the mob, making his way to Sam. He saw the people turn around and stare at him, the people looking and murmuring, whispering into each other’s ears, the jerking of people’s heads towards him, and the excited look on Lilith’s face as she chattered into the microphone. He noticed the sudden intake of breath and it was only until he saw the people were staring at him. They all stared with eyes wide and suddenly everything snapped into focus.

“OH well this is exciting! This is exciting! This is exciting! We have a volunteer!” Dean’s world came into focus as the last bits of his reverie disappeared.

_So I did shout. Thank God._

The whispers became loud murmurings as Dean jerked his head up. He marched forward now much more relaxed. He looked around and noticed no one was looking at him. The eyes focused behind him. His eyes followed their gaze.

It was then that he saw the Volunteer.

The guards abandoned Sam and moved toward the Volunteer. He walked rigidly, his eyes hard and focused.

Dean’s heart seemed to race and stop beating completely in an irregular pattern. The ice blue eyes of the Volunteer locked with Dean’s and there was no mistaking the effect it had on him. The Volunteer’s messy brown hair stuck up at weird angles and had a life of its own; he walked with strength and purpose straight toward Dean, the guards trying to keep up as they flanked behind the billowing trench coat.

Castiel. Dean knew the guy, but just barely.

He was 18, and from District 1. He had only moved to District 12 a couple years prior. No one moved between the districts, it was forbidden, punishable by death. No one would be stupid enough to do it voluntarily.  Rumor had it that he defied the governing party in District 1 and had been excommunicated. He was banished and cast to District 12 as punishment. Now he lived alone on the edge of District 12, still an outcast.

He talked to seldom and locked himself in his house; while he didn’t deny the rumors, he didn’t confirm them either. Castiel, to Dean’s knowledge had no family and no friends. Rumors also circulated that he had numerous brothers in District 1 but they all left disowned Castiel once he was banished.

Dean had only talked to the guy once in his life. It was a brief encounter. Dean was trying to buy some milk from the store only to be short on cash. The storekeeper had increased the price to ten dollars for a quart. Dean threatened the storekeeper and a fight broke out. Dean, who was half delirious and weak from hunger, was easily cornered, the storekeeper happy to have a bloody end to the confrontation. Castiel had stepped in right as the final blow was to be thrown. Castiel easily disarmed the rotten storekeeper, pushed the man on the floor. He grabbed two quarts and handed them to Dean only then to disappear.

The guards finally caught up to Castiel as he marched down the aisle way. They tried to grip his arms but he shrugged them off; out of intimidation they allowed him to continue on his own. He was continuing to approach Dean on his way to the stage and Dean could only control his body from convulsing, as he stood frozen in the middle of the walkway. They continued to stare at one another and Castiel suppressed a shiver as the emerald eyes spelled out all of the thoughts Dean couldn’t voice. Castiel looked away in an attempt to stop intruding on the interworking and personal thoughts of Dean Winchester.

Castiel’s powerful footfalls were now the only noise emitting from the unholy gathering. He strode across the elevated stage with an air of confidence and indifference. He looked powerful and extremely superior as even the proud Lilith shrank away from his glare. She took a moment to regain her plastered on smile as she timidly moved back toward the microphone.

“Ah, so a brave warrior we have! So sorry, Sam, that this man here has stolen your chance at glory!” Dean could wasn’t listening as he continued to bore his eyes into Castiel, who tried to avoid his gaze but found himself returning the stare. “Now, what is your name, my brave volunteer?” He stood adjacent to her to the left of the podium. His eyes flickered from Dean to Lilith as he glared down at her.

“Castiel.” He replied gruffly.

“Ah, Castiel, what a glorious name! Castiel….”she paused waiting for him to fill in the last name, but after an unforgiving glare, she continued, “Ah yes, Castiel, this year’s male tribute to the HUNGER GAMES!”

The crowd stood motionless. Silence engulfed them as they stared in shock, until Sam Winchester raised his salute, the three-fingered sign of honor, respect, and gratitude. Castiel looked into the boy’s eyes and bowed his head slightly. However, his eyes immediately returned to Dean. The crowd immediately followed suit. The arms rose high and people fought back tears. The bond between the Winchester brothers (as well as their reliance upon one another) was known, well known.

The people stood with tears in their eyes as all but one held up their sign of honor. Dean stood in shock and awe in the middle of the aisle way, sampling staring at the blue eyes of Castiel.


	3. What If We Could Have This?

The rest of the ceremony was a blur. Dean found himself back among the crowd not remembering the guards pushing him back into the masses. He faintly remembered the girl’s slip being pulled, Jo Harvelle; no one volunteered for her.

 

            The tributes were given an hour to say goodbye to their friends and family. Castiel and Jo were shuffled into separate rooms and within moments people were rushing towards the doors. Crowds of crying girls formed and mob outside of the door. Jo was popular and well known and liked. Ellen, Jo’s mother, forcefully pushed her way through the crowd even though a majority of people made a path for her.

 

            Castiel’s door, however, stood awkwardly isolated. Groups of men and children stood in the vicinity of the door, though no one was closer than twenty feet to the doorknob. The groups around his door whispered about the Volunteer, the known stranger. The rumors of his banishment were discussed along with the unrelenting cruelty of his family, who had abandoned him. People wondered about why he had been excommunicated.

 

_He_ seems _like a nice guy._

_He says hi every once in a while._

_Anyone who would make this kind of sacrifice must be a good person._

_Did he even know Sam?_

_Maybe he knows Dean? Nah._

_Why would he volunteer?_

Their conversations grew louder but a quick jab to the ribs made them all fall silent. Garth Fitzgerald IV pointed to the two encroaching visitors. The Winchesters knocked on the door and slipped inside.

 

            Castiel eyed them curiously as he let them in; he honestly hadn’t been expecting any visitors. Dean continued his silence as he stared at Castiel. Castiel felt the need to say something, anything; the silence begin to close around his throat, successfully suffocating him.

 

 He began to speak when Sam threw his arms around Castiel’s middle. Sam gripped Castiel tightly and he began to speak when his emotions overcame him and he sobbed quietly into Castiel’s shirt. Castiel awkwardly stood with the boy wrapped around him. After a moment he was able to comprehend the muffled thank-you’s and Castiel wrapped his arms around the boy and patted him on the back. Castiel smiled lightly, just an upturn of the corners of his lips. Sam sniffed once and pulled himself away.

 

He wiped his tears quickly and squared his shoulders, a habit Castiel noticed Dean practiced too. Sam turned around and looked at Dean, who smiled and gave his brother a quick hug and jerked his head to the side. Sam nodded, took one more steady breath, and walked out the door.

           

            Dean waited until his brother’s footsteps couldn’t be heard to talk. Castiel beat him, however, and began the conversation.

            “I am surprised you both came to visit me.” Castiel commented genuinely as Dean opened his mouth to speak. He closed it and began again.

            “I uh, just. Why? Why did you do this?” Dean asked exasperated and Castiel looked like the confused one.

            “What do you mean why?” Castiel questioned and Dean stood silently. Finally Castiel rolled his eyes, “You truly do not understand? Well, obviously Sam could not be a tribute. So what you volunteer? You go to the Hunger Games and get yourself killed? No. Who would take care of your brother then? No, it is best if I take his place, thereby taking your place.” Dean was quiet for a moment as this all settled in.

            “Well, thank you but, I mean _why_ would you sacrifice yourself _for Sam_? Or _for me_?” Dean was still awestruck to the turn of events.

            “Honestly, Dean. A lot of people would care if you didn’t return.” Castiel paused as he looked at the floor, contemplating on whether to say something or not, he chose not and continued with a separate thought altogether, “No one would care if I did not return. Half of the population here does not know me, those who do dislike me, I would think. And whom do I have to leave behind? No one. I’m not letting you die, especially when you have a life to live.”

            Dean listened quietly. He didn’t want to argue. Of course he was relieved that his brother was home safe, and that he, himself, didn’t have to volunteer, that he got to stay with his brother. A greater relief was that his brother wouldn’t have to watch him die. But Dean still didn’t understand.

            “And you _don’t_ have a life to live?”

            “Not one of importance. I think we all have a purpose, and…”

            “and your purpose is to go on a suicide mission? You don’t even know us.”

            “I _do_ know that neither of you deserves this. Of course, no one does, but I could not let this happen to _you.”_ Castiel stopped before the rest of the words came bubbling to his mouth.  Dean was quiet and absorbed everything Castiel had said.

            “That still doesn’t explain why though…”

            “I don’t see how I can explain this better.” Castiel looked frustrated yet sympathetic.

            “Ok I get how it’s the ‘best option’ for my brother and I that neither of us go to these damn games, but why do you care? I mean you didn’t have to do this.”

            “Of course I did!” Castiel shouted, a little angry now. “Don’t you understand?” Castiel quieted himself and continued, “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to…explode. Now, leave. Go take care of your brother.” Castiel paused again as he played with the key in his pocket as he looked into the emerald eyes that had haunted him for the past two years. “Dean, it was nice to finally talk to you. I’m sorry we’ll never get a chance to do it again, but I have enjoyed this, thank you.” Castiel reached into his pocket and began to pull out the key when Dean interrupted the action.

            “No, we’re not saying goodbye yet. You still have over a half hour. No you’re coming with me and you’re going to have dinner with us. It’s the least we can do.”

            “Dean, I really don’t…” Castiel tried to object but was surprised by the forcefully fingers that gripped his shoulders.

            “Dammit Cas! You could die in my brother’s place, my place. I’m not letting you spend your final thirty minutes here alone.” Castiel smiled at the nickname and Dean mistook it for agreement. Dean grabbed his forearm and half dragged him out of the room. Castiel followed willingly however, yet Dean continued to hang onto his arm. They made their way to Winchester abode and Dean suddenly felt self conscious of his house. It was a stupid knee jerk reaction, as if Cas would have anything more acceptable. Cas marveled at the house. He was enchanted with all the random knickknacks around the house. The pictures that lined the mantel, the large bookcases that had duct tape on the corners and the dusty books that lined the shelves. Castiel stared at the wobbly table that had names carved in them. He traced the names and marveled at the craftsmanship.

            Sam came in from one the rooms; he seemed both embarrassed and excited to see Castiel sitting at the table in living room. He walked and sat down at the table next to Castiel. Castiel smiled at him and continued to stare at the numerous names etched into the wood. Dean was busy searing the other three rabbits he had caught earlier that morning, silently thanking that he had happened to stumble upon an extra. As he walked to the fireplace, he heard Sam and Cas talking. Dean listened contently as he stoked the fire. He returned to kitchen and put the rabbits in the oven. He hurried back to the living room and plopped down beside Cas on the ancient couch. Cas turned beside him and smiled.

 

            “This table is really interesting.” Cas continued to marvel at the etched names, his fingers moving from one name to the next.

            “Yeah, it’s uh been in the family for awhile.”

            “Castiel, look there’s my name and there’s Dean’s.” Sam pointed to the left corner of the table. Castiel stared and smiled up at Sam. His fingers froze as if tracing their names was too much of an invasion of privacy. Dean could smell the rabbit in the oven and jumped up.  Castiel stood and followed Dean into the kitchen. Dean felt nervous. He couldn’t remember a time when he had to entertain a guest. He wished they had something to talk about. Dean pulled the rabbit out and threw each onto a plate. Castiel hovered around him.

 

            “This was very nice of you,  Thank you. You really didn’t have to do this.” Dean chuckled,

            “Yeah, cuz you’re one to talk.” Cas’ eyebrows furrowed at that  but didn’t respond.

            “Here, let me help.” Dean had to stop himself from saying something along the lines of _You’ve already helped plenty._ Dean just couldn’t comprehend Castiel. He truly didn’t understand what would cause any person to sacrifice himself for another person they didn’t know. People just didn’t do that. Not when everyone’s got to look out for themselves first. Dean was an anomaly just from the way he wholeheartedly put his brother first, but that was different from this; they were brothers and Dean was all Sam had. And even more so, Sam was Dean’s only real reason to live.

 

Dean seemed to be barely treading water as his thought insistently flooded his mind. He handed Cas a plate of rabbit and grabbed the last two plates, balanced them on his forearm and grabbed the few utensils they still had. Cas followed him and took a seat on the couch. Dean sat in the rickety armchair with his plate teetering on his knees as he handed Sam his early dinner.  

Dinner was quiet but somehow normal. As much as Dean tried to look for the awkward and the uncomfortable part of this whole ordeal, he couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t felt this at peace sitting and eating in a long while. Castiel nibbled at his food, taking bites every few minutes or so. Sam, the ever-growing-boy, inhaled his rabbit. It wasn’t long before he was licking the grease off his fingers and quietly chewing on the cartilage off the bones.  Dean broke apart the last half of his rabbit, and outstretched his quarter-offering  to Sam only to see Sam’s plate already had another hunk of meat. His eyes jerked up as Cas wiped his greasy fingers on the hem of his trench coat.  Dean huffed and placed the quarter piece of meat that was intended for Sam onto Castiel’s plate.

Castiel looked up and glared, almost as harshly as if he was insulted by the gesture. Dean inclined his head, and raised his eyebrows as a challenge. Castiel held his gaze for a few minutes, and the staring contest ensued, the only sound being the quiet chewing from Sam, who was oblivious to the showdown he was in the middle of.  Castiel looked down at the plate, and moved his hands to pick it up and hand it to Dean.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” Sam looked up startled at Dean’s narrowed eyes and gruff warning. Sam glance flickered to Cas, who now wore an exasperated look. For a moment it looked as if he was going to continue his protest but he eventually picked up the succulent morsel and brought it to his lips.

Dean smiled smugly, and Sam continued to glance about, confused.

“Did I miss something?” Sam looked to Dean, who had the word ‘No’ forming on his lips only to be interrupted by Castiel.

“Your brother is incorrigible.” Sam turned to Cas, who took another bite of the rabbit.

“Tell me about it.”  Dean laughed and the corners of Cas’ lips turned up a bit. Sam beamed with pride at having gotten such the reaction he did. Dean found himself staring into Cas’ brilliant blue eyes and started noticing the way they crinkled when he smiled wide.

 

 For a brief moment, Dean wondered what it would be like if Cas was a permanent fixture in their lives. What would it be like to come home from a long day at the mines, and instead of worrying to make sure Sam was safe and okay, he walked in to see Cas and Sam laughing while reading a book. Or to wake up in the morning and hear a rustling in the kitchen and know someone, Cas, had woken up to take care of breakfast. What would it be like to be able to rely on another person? To have someone in his life that cared about Sam just as much as Dean did. What if this was a normal night? Sitting around talking and laughing, being happy for once. What if they could have that with Cas?

A gong rang through the tiny shack. And with that the happy normalcy that had been born was scattered to the winds. Everyone fell silent and could hear the heavy footsteps approach the door.

 

“I must go now, then.” Cas stood solemnly. Sam and Dean rose with him and walked him to the door, Sam’s hand clutching onto Castiel’s. Dean’s hear pounded in his chest, seeming to rattle erratically in his ribcage.  They reached the front door at about the same time a loud knock was heard on the other side. Castiel wrapped his arms around Sam who reciprocated the embrace.

 

_This is how mornings would start, before sending Sam off to school._

He let go as another pound thundered against the door. Dean took a step forward, something in his gut propelling him to want a similar intimate farewell. They stared at one another a moment too long before they each leaned forward.

_We could be…_

The door lurched open and the guards encircled Castiel, declaring his time for goodbye’s was up. They dragged Castiel out the door and Dean stumbled forward, his arm outstretched. ‘Cas wait!’ was stuck in his throat as he frantically grabbed for Cas’ hand. He grasped Castiel’s fingers for split second and felt a squeeze before they slipped away.  

 

He watched them push Castiel along the road and into the train car. Dean had wanted to follow but he was cemented to the dirt front yard of their humble abode. Sam had ambled up behind him and hung on to Dean’s old, worn leather jacket.

 

The train whistle blew and the train slowly began to pick up speed as it pulled out. It was almost out of sight when Dean was finally able to whisper,

“G’bye, Cas.”


End file.
